El Oso Polar
by AishiteSubete
Summary: Matthew gets lost in Mexico City when he vists the country for diplomatic reasons. Luckily for him, he's found by a gorgeous chica... Canada/Mexico fluff.


Title: El Oso Polar

Author: AishiteSubete

Rating: T

Summary: _Matthew gets lost in Mexico City when he vists the country for diplomatic reasons. Luckily for him, he's found by a gorgeous chica... Canada/Mexico fluff._

**A/N: I have no clue about Mexico. At all. I've heard Mexico's a girl, I've heard Mexico's a boy. I personally prefer Mexico to be a girl, so that's how I'm going to write the country-especially for this story~ So. This is Canada/fem!Mexico**

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><p><span>EL OSO POLAR<span>

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><p>Matthew bit his lower lip as the sun began to set over the horizon, its light lowering behind the desert, leaving the moon to light his path. The Canadian hated to admit it, but he was lost in Mexico City.<p>

He was supposed to be meeting the personification of Mexico for the first time in his life tomorrow morning. The original plan was to fly with his twin brother, Alfred, from New York to Mexico City, and go from there. But somehow, after the plane had landed and everybody began to unload, Matthew became separated from Alfred, and had heard nothing from him since.

_It shouldn't bother me..._ Matthew thought bitterly as he passed a man on a street corner, smoking. _I'm used to being ignored, rejected, and left behind. _He felt tears welling in his eyes, and it was hard for him to believe how much the realization affected him; the poor blond had spent most of his life being ignored, the attention being lavished on Alfred instead. He burned with anger at times, but was mostly met with sadness-was I not worth anything when we were children? Did I show no promise?

Matthew just kept walking. He didn't know where his hotel was or how he would find it, but he assumed he would keep walking until he came across something, or until Alfred called with many apologies about leaving him behind. Both situations seemed very unlikely at this point; it was already dark. Matthew wasn't even sure what kind of terrors might await him in the city.

Eventually, the young Canadian became tired of walking; he was almost tempted to sit in the middle of the sidewalk like the occasional bums and homeless people he saw on the street, but decided against it. Instead, the light of a nearby flower shop lured him in.

"Hello-err, hola?" Matthew walked into the small shop, looking in astoundment at the flowers that surrounded him-real flowers, silk flowers, paper flowers; there were enough roses to make even Francis Bonnefoy himself flush in jealousy.

"Bienvenida!" A young-sounding voice shouted from somewhere in a back room. "Uno momento, por favor!"

Matthew blinked; if it wasn't for the words' close similarity to the English he spoke and his minimal, first-grade knowledge of Spanish, the poor guy wouldn't have understood a single word of what was said. Momentarily, the short Mexican girl emerged from the room, sitting a vase on the counter. "Lo siento," she said apologetically. "Puedo interesarte en unos flores?"

Matthew only looked at her blankly. "Puedes hablar espanol?" The Canadian just looked at her, and she sighed a little bit, her lips quirking upwards into a smile.

"I can tell you're not from around here," she said, looking at him intensely. "It's not rare that I get many foreign visitors. Where are you from?"

"Canada," Matthew said hesitantly. "Quebec, to be precise, though I spend a lot of time in all the provinces. I came here with my twin brother, Alfred."

"Alfred F. Jones?" she inquired with a look. "You must actually _be_ Canada, then." She chuckled a little in the back of her throat. "Yes, I know your brother well; he's the one who taught me how to speak English. Apparently I've given him a lot of grief over the last few years-like a clingy girlfriend, that's what he called me." Her lips hinted at a smile-a hollow one.

"Then you're Mexico?" Matthew inquired slightly. "Oh, maple, I'm sorry for bothering your work!"

"No, it's okay," she said. "Speaking of which, where is Alfred?" _Of course, _Matthew thought, his eyes falling a bit. _She only cares about Alfred_.

"He ditched me at the airport," he said softly, not looking up at her. "He never really sees me; well, nobody pays much attention."

"Not true!" Mexico interjected happily, beaming at him. "I've noticed you in a few world meetings; I never said anything because I knew you wouldn't know who the hell I was." She smiled brightly. "I think I like you more than I do your brother."

"My name's Alejandra-Alejandra Hernandez," she said airily, leaning towards Canada.

"Matthew Williams," the Canadian responded. He leaned aimlessly against the counter as Alondra continued to fuss with the flowers on display. "Do you know where the hotel that Alfred and I are supposed to be staying at? I sort of got lost after I got separated from Alfred."

Alejandra made a noise with her tongue. "How sad—and I thought you were here to see me!" she laughed at her own joke, and Matthew smiled a little bit. "I'll walk you there," she continued, grabbing a set of keys from somewhere underneath the counter. "It isn't too far," she continued lightly, hopping over the counter. "Let's go." She dimmed the lights in the shop and flipped the "open" card on the front door to "closed." Together with Matthew, the Mexican and the Canadian walked into the Mexico City streets.

They hadn't been walking far when Alejandra began to speak again. "I know how you feel, Matthew," she began as the two walked in step. "About being ignored, I mean. I _am_ Mexico; there hasn't been much going on with me. In fact, I really haven't gotten much recognition since the Zimmerman Note back in World War I." Her voice sounded cold and emotionless. "I'm always remembered for bad things," she continued. "The bloodbath at the Alamo, my refusal to sell California…" she drifted off, almost as if she didn't want to mention anything else—especially about the Zimmerman Note and World War I. "America calls me his 'clingy girlfriend' because of all the shit I've put his country through; the rebellion, the war, I dragged him into the first world war, my people are continually crossing our border illegally and causing a problem or two for his people," she concluded sadly.

"At least you're recognized," Matthew said bitterly, biting his lower lip. "I'm not recognized for anything."

"Better not to be recognized at all than to be recognized for your failures," she finished sadly. The lights of the downtown metropolitan area shone brightly, and Alejandra came to a stop in front of a taller building. "This is your hotel," she said. "Thank you for allowing me to walk here."

Matthew smiled—a true, genuine smile. "It's no problem; I'm so glad that I found you to walk me here," he said. "Thank you, Alejandra."

"You're welcome, Matthew," she said sweetly; she was completely taken aback, however, when she felt his lips touch hers.

"You know," he said, "maybe we can be ignored together," he suggested.

"Si me ves camindando en las calles, remember me," she said, leading him to the door of the hotel. "I'll see you tomorrow, Matthew."

The Canadian nodded in response, watching as the Mexican lady walked away from him, her skirts flowing as she paced through her own streets. There was no way he would ever forget her.


End file.
